Tearing Down and Building Up
by Teinai
Summary: Dan has been going through a rough time. He got fired whilst simultaneously realising that he has no friends, love life, or family that aren't miles and miles away. As the title suggests, he starts finding life harder to live and has to make some drastic concessions, but simultaneously finds someone to lean on and help him grow - also known as Mr. Jonah Ryan. (Jonah x Dan M/M)
1. Unexpected

**Tearing Down and Building Up. **

**Chapter 1: Unexpected **

**Saturday, 7:55a.m. **

**Veep Headquarters**

Dan sneaked into work early the next morning, hoping - no, praying - that no one saw him. He was humiliated, fired from his job when he was at the pinnacle of career success. He was just grabbing his lucky mug and turning on his computer to lift all of his personal files when Amy came barging through the door, and flicked on the light switch.

Dan froze. His stomach contorted itself into a knot. "Dan," Amy asked, quizzically, "What are you doing here so early?"

"Well, Amy," Dan retorted with his voice sounding a little more guttural and gravelly than he would have liked it, "I'm just clearing out my desk. As you happily reminded me yesterday, I got fired."

Amy stood there, bewildered. "Dan, the Veep didn't actually fire you. She just demoted you. You still have a spot on our team," she smirked, "Albeit a lower spot to the one you previously enjoyed."

She started walking towards his monitor, a sway in her step - victorious and confident. "She," and she allowed her weight to rest on her back foot, contemplative, "Or should I say 'I' now, would never let someone with your amount of inside knowledge leave our team."

Dan sneered to himself, "I'm so happy to be gainfully employed and valued for my expertise."

Just as he finished talking, Selina dashed through the door. "Dan!" she exclaimed, evidently surprised to see him in so early given their most recent communication, "You fucked up, Dan. You fucked up, as the immigrants would say, 'mucho'." She turned to Amy, "That's right, isn't it?" Amy shrugged, "I'm sure it is, Ma'am."

Selina shook her head slightly, "Regardless, Dan. No hard feelings. And, I have a task for you! Maddox has been ass-fucking me this week with all this inside scoop about my office – your epic firing, this one," she gestured haphazardly at Amy, "Picking up a promotion for doing hardly much of anything. I need a plan, Dan. You know? You used to be my plan guy, and I need a plan."

She tread closely until she was inches from him, her eyes dead-set on his face, "Or we, and by that, I do indeed mean you, are FUCKED."

In response to this, Dan reflexively blurted out, "Why can't your saviour Amy Brookheimer, Queen Campaign Manager do something about it?"

Selina looked at him with a harsh gaze, "Because we are fucking women, Dan. And our only route to Maddox is through that freak troll and sexual pervert, Jonah. So, your mission is to go to him, do whatever the FUCK you can to make this media shitstorm go away, and then come back here with his balls in your hand for me to squash like that wicked witch," she looked at Amy, "You know the one I'm talking about? With the horns? Played by that famous actress?"

Dan responded before Amy could get the chance, "Maleficent". Selina smiled back to him, "Yes," she motioned to the door, "Now, git!"

**Saturday, 12:07p.m.**

**Jonah's Residence**

The sky was harsh and grey. For late fall, it was far too cold. Dan could feel the tendrils of winter wrapping around his shoulders, and he didn't like it. His head hurt. There was a sharp ache in his skull; it was irritating his vision, and making his chest ache. He couldn't even recall whether he had slept the night before.

If he was being honest with himself, he probably hadn't. It was a harsh blow – not only because of all the hard work he had put into the position, but because he now finally realised how important his work life was, and how little he had outside of work. Who were his friends?

As he stepped up the cold, stone steps of Jonah's porch, he wondered whether he had anything left in him. And whether being divvied up the task of dealing with the teething infant that was Jonah 'Jonad' Ryan was enough to push him over the edge. His knuckles freezing and cursing his lack of gloves, he rapped hard on Jonah's door. He didn't know why, but he had a subtle hint – and his intuition had always been his greatest strength – that Jonah would be at home.

Almost immediately, the door flung open, revealing Jonah in a black heavy metal band tee, and baggy, baby blue pyjamas with trucks on them. He guessed Maddox really did give his campaign team the licence to relax on the weekends. For a moment, he seemed perturbed by the scene. Why was it that he, in all his prowess and expertise, had to slave away every day of his life, lose his sleep and his sanity to _somehow_ lose his position and Jonah, who, as far as Dan knew, had never worked hard a day in his life, was able to retain a full-time paid advisory position on a Presidential Campaign _with weekends off?_

He sighed. "Hello, Jonah."

Jonah eyed him warily, "Hello," he stepped back a fraction, "This isn't about my taunts yesterday, is it? Because defamation can be defended with truth, Dan, and I stand by my claims. You are a butt-muncher."

Dan let out a huff of anger, and barged through the entrance into the corridor, "It's not about your infantile taunts. This is about your media strategy. You better stop attacking the Veep, or things could get very ugly for you," and he slowly enunciated the last word, "Jo-nad."

Jonah's face flushed with rage, and he retorted, "I'm in my motherfucking pyjamas, bitch! I just had a fucking bubble bath and now my body is ready for a nap, so you can fuck right off, Dan."

Dan grit his teeth, "It's a clear conflict of interest, Jonah! The information you're spreading about the Veep was only obtained through your work for the West Wing, or alternatively through overheard conversations that were clearly not meant for your ears. And that's called breach of confidence. Also known as an offence with no maximum on damages."

Jonah scoffed, "Oh, it is on, Dan. You want to talk about legal liability? Let's talk about it. You just came into my home and threatened me with litigation unless I withhold information from my boss. That amounts to blackmail. Another offence with no maximum on damages. And while we're on the subject, this is private property. I have not granted you entry. This is technically a trespass. And the longer you stay in my hallway without my permission, Danny boy," he said, ruffling Dan's hair, "The stronger that presumption becomes. Go eat a dick."

In that moment, Dan cracked. Jonah, fucking _Jonah_ bested him in an argument. And it was at that moment that something broke inside his mind.

"If I can't even influence you," he stated in a quivering, desperate voice, "I must be an incompetent, Jonah."

Jonah looked at him in bewilderment. It was not like Dan to admit weakness or failure. Dan was strong. Dan could take his taunts. That was one of the reasons why he liked to hang around him.

Dan continued, "Is that why I lost my position as Campaign Manager? Am I really an incompetent, Jonah?"

His eyes were unfocussed and blurred as he stared into Jonah's astonished face. He clearly didn't know what to say, and Dan didn't wait for a response, becoming more and more manic with every second passing, "I just… This isn't what I wanted when I studied at Yale. And Harvard. _Harvard_, Jonah. I'm an Ivy League educated SCHOLAR and I can't… I just can't get any thing to go my way anymore. Why is that? Why am I so defective and ineffectual? WHY?" He yelped the last question into the silent air.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll have to leave the country, but I can't… because I can't. I just, I need to just calm down." He started to breathe deeply for a few seconds. Jonah started to ease towards cutting in, but then Dan sporadically clapped a hand to his mouth, finally in some way cognoscente of his behaviour, "Just keep a lid on it, Egan."

He then began to tear up, and put his hands over his face to hide his shame. Jonah, feeling an uncharacteristic stab of empathy, started towards him and began slowly with, "Dan are you..."

However, before the sentence, which invariably would have ended in "Okay?" could be completed, Dan pointed to his index finger sharply and directly at Jonah - fearing Jonah's next words would be "a psycho," "a manic," or "mentally unstable."

His voice rose to a shrill bark, "Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare make any labels. I am fucking fine! This isn't happening. I can't allow this to happen. I won't allow myself to, to..."

He proceeded to wipe his watery eyes and began an indignant march to the door, when Jonah swiftly enveloped him in a tight hug.

The room froze. Dan just sat there stunned as Jonah engulfed him in warmth, his muscles flexing to encapsulate the entirety of his subject's body. It was tender, but strong. It smelt of Jonah's lavender soap still clinging to his skin, of his generic brand of scented shampoo still lingering in his hair, and a strange mix of feeling and sense that Dan could only have described as "safety". Dan buried his face into Jonah's chest, heavily sighing, and wrapped his arms around him.

In the silence, Dan's tears fell, but neither man acknowledged it. However, after a few moments, it came time to extricate himself from Jonah, as all hugs (sadly) come to that inevitability.

And then, almost gracefully, Dan tilted his body to the right, dodged Jonah's probing questions and outstretched arms, and ran out the door, leaving Jonah cold in the now drafty house.

Jonah was alone, and it was in that singularity that Jonah realised something. Whilst taunting Dan was _one_ of the reasons why he liked the other man so much, it was not the main reason.

Shocked, his mouth open in horror, it dawned on him. He liked Dan Egan.


	2. Collision

**Chapter 2: Collision **

**Sunday, 1:33p.m.**

**Veep Headquarters**

It was a new day, and Dan was ready to work. After the events of the previous afternoon, he was feeling much more focused and in control - moreover, he'd actually slept.

He was just coming back from lunch when his phone softly vibrated in his back pocket. Inquisitive, he inspected the shiny screen. It flashed up a message, he had received text was from Jonah.

It read:

"Hey Dan,  
How are you? Yesterday was weird. Call or text me back. I'd like to talk about it.

Jonah."

Annoyed, Dan contemplated his response. How did he feel about Jonah? Since yesterday, he had been feeling better, but who said it was Jonah's place to demand that Dan consult or even think of him in any way, shape or form? His private life was his own. That was a core principle in Dan's rulebook, and he wasn't going to allow a moment of weakness (or in his estimation, the mere effects of overtiredness) to allow this intrusion into the way he operated.

Indignantly, he swiftly typed back:

"What do you mean, Jonad? I don't recall anything other than the vigorous face-fuck I gave you on your front porch. Remember our conversation, buddy. Back off from the hate speech, or the Veep (and by that I luckily mean me) will demolish you."

He finished his communication with a smirk on his face, and the genuine belief that the issue was sorted. Dan then promptly clicked his phone closed and walked into the bullpen.

**1:47p.m.**

**Jonah's Residence**

Jonah was sitting on his recently slept-in bed when he received Dan's reply. He had been sitting, face inches from his phone screen since he sent the intrepid text. He believed he had authored it in the perfect tone – not too casual, not too formal.

The reply, however, had been worse than even his nervous anxiety had anticipated. At worst, he had expected Dan to blow him off with a non-committal one-liner or for him to be "seen-zoned".

He groaned loudly into his pillow. Muffled, he uttered aloud, "So, we're back to Jonad, huh?" This is exactly what he (secretly) didn't want to happen. A regression from that moment – the brief respite for Dan and the concurrent opening of Jonah's heart. And now that his heart was opening, he didn't want to close it again. He had spent far too long having his hopes dashed by relationship after relationship, fling after fling, and he had to fight the urge to smother his feelings.

But there was a little, tiny voice inside his head that simply told him to "endure". So he put down his metaphorical needle and thread, picked up his phone and began to dial Dan. "Well, two can play at this game."

"Hello?" came Dan's gruff, no-nonsense tone through the call.

"Hello, Dan," said Jonah, as jovial and nonchalant as he could muster.

Dan replied, sounding agitated, "Jonah, what do you want, I'm busy!"

Jonah pursed his lips, realising he would have to show less candour than he would have liked, "I just wanted to talk about yesterday – your message was pretty condescending. We both know what really happened."

Dan signed, "That was a simply brief moment of weakness. I'm fine. Really, Jonah."

Jonah scoffed, "See, the fact that you just simply say 'I'm fine' proves to me that you're not fine. A fine Dan would say something like 'Why, what are you planning?' or 'Go fuck yourself', or 'Eat a dick, Jonad'."

Dan, sounding irritated, retorted, "My reactions don't have to fit your criterion, Jonah. Stop trying to micromanage me. I don't even understand why you called."

"I called, Dan," Jonah was finding it hard to keep his cool at this point – why did he even bother? "Because regardless of your misconceptions, I do actually care about you."

Dan laughed, cruelly, "Care about me? Your entire career is basically centred on discrediting me. We work for political rivals, Jonah. How do you envision us being anything other than bitter adversaries?"

Jonah paused to think, Dan was constantly on the offensive. If he wanted to get some answers, he would have to probe him, "Why are you attacking me, when I'm simply trying to help? And moreover, why are you being so defensive? The events of last night were a completely natural reaction to your over-working, self-denying work ethic. You allowed yourself to be exposed, and there's nothing wrong with showing vulnerability. There's nothing 'defective', as I believe you labelled yourself last night, about letting someone else take point."

"Well, Jonah," Dan responded, his voice catching slightly in his throat, "Maybe not in your line of work."

He continued, "Shutting people off is the only way I know how to survive. I couldn't function today if I talked to my Mom constantly. Or if I stopped to think where I want to be in 10 years. Or why my mantle-piece is filled with photo frames but no photos of anyone I love. It's not all rosé and roses, but it's my life."

Jonah, softening at these words, simply responded with, "It doesn't have to be."

He then ended the call, leaving the room in silence. A curious mixture of smile and smirk on his face, he decided there and then that he was determined to win Dan over. All he needed to do was figure out his next move.

**1:52p.m.**

**Veep Headquarters**

He hung up on him.

Dan didn't know unnerved him more, the fact that the fucker hung up on him, or his last words to Dan.

What was it about those words that were so… hopeful? And why was it so easy to blurt out all of his best-kept secrets when Jonah pressed him?

It was almost as if… "Dan?" questioned Selina, sternly. Dan quickly spun around from the corner of the room in which he took his call to face her, "Can you get off the fucking phone? Because it would be fucking fantastic if you could actually do the job I pay you to do! Strategize!"

"Okay, okay!" He replied, while checking his phone and stuffing it into his pants pocket.

As she walked away, Selina mocked to the campaign team at large, "Just because you're not campaign manager, doesn't mean you can start shirking your responsibilities," she tapped Mike on the shoulder, "Am I right, Mike?"

Mike snorted, "Yeah, Dan. Who's calling you? You're Mom!?"

"Shut up, Mike," Dan snapped back, "It's none of your fucking business who I call."

Selina interceded, stepping between the two of them, "Alright, alright. Stop it. Dan, learn to lighten up. Anyway, Amy," she said, gesturing to the blonde and stepping in her direction, "I would like you to know that I picked you because I knew, or at least I thought, that it was only you who could turn my campaign around."

Amy ducked her head and smiled, flushing with praise, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Selina continued her strides towards her, "But now what I know is different to what I used to know. Amy, are you familiar with baseball, like, at all?"

Amy shrugged, "I played it, like, once with my father. I mean I don't love it, but I..."

Selina gestured for her to stop, and interjected, "Alright, alright. Enough, enough, enough! Geez, I didn't ask for your life story!"

She faked an exasperated face, and went on, "Now, in my limited experience of the sport on this campaign, sometimes hitters miss the ball. And sometime when this happens, the catchers get hit by a stray ball. And you can bet that's gunna fucking hurt like a mother," she chortled at her own joke. "So you know what they have to protect them?" She gestures to the group.

They all slowly start say at different awkward intervals, "Gloves."

Astonished at their inane lack of knowledge, Selina lectured, "Yes. Gloves," and she pointed emphatically at Amy, "I need some fucking gloves Amy. To protect me."

She pointed to herself, "To protect my fucking face. Because this here? It's the money-maker. So then, why is it that I've just been informed that Maddox is already out making bold promises about females in families and supporting women in the workforce and I don't have single open policy about women apart from the election-losing abortion debacle?"

Amy looks stunned, as the Veep stared at her, incredulous, "Do you like fucking my face, Amy? Do you enjoy it? Again - and I _cannot believe_ I've had to say this twice - WHAT THE FUCK, AMY? You are royally fucking over my female vote. Fucking fix this! Fucking take all night, it's not like you put any effort into your boyfriend, anyway. Uteruses before dicks, Amy. Fucking feminism. Because apparently, I'm pro-abortion! It might as well be the 1700s with me in a pointed hat with female opinions! FUCK!"

She strode into her office and slammed her door in their faces. Everyone was stunned. Even Mike stayed silent. And it during this precise moment that Jonah walked in wearing a regular black and white suit and an uncharacteristic red blazer.

This provided the perfect segue for the group from the embarrassing departure of the Veep, with Amy immediately interjecting before Jonah had a chance to open his mouth.

"Has Christmas come early this year?" she asked. The group chortled intermittently, including Dan, much to Jonah's chagrin.

Jonah began to interrupt the laughter when Mike added, "Ho, ho, ho-ld up Jonah. It isn't Christmas Eve, and I don't have any milk and cookies for you, so what could you possibly want with us?"

Gary continued the barrage with, "Yeah, fuck off St. Nick," but then, Selina emerged from her office due to the commotion. Flushing red, she turned to the group at large, "Which of you shit-for-brains let him into this office?"

Turning to Jonah, she began her interrogation, "And what the fuck are you doing here, you freakishly large-scale Mickey Mouse? As far as I understand it, you don't work for the fucking White House anymore so you can say 'bye-bye' back to Disney World!"

"Ma'am, you are correct. I am no longer the White House Liaison to the Vice President, but I have been sent by Secretary Maddox for your response to his new, if you permit me the alliteration, Ma'am, lady-loving laws."

Sue guffawed, "They're not laws until Secretary Maddox passes them through Congress, Jonah."

Selina persisted, "Exactly! Thank you, Sue," and she smiled in Sue's general vicinity before continuing, "And you know what else, Maddox-Muppet? Stop acting like you're so high and mighty. We aren't intimidated by your boss' attempts to pull the fucking rug out from under us. I mean, Jesus Christ. The fact that he's trying so hard to pull in the female vote is because I'm a fucking woman for Christ's sake. We already have that demographic in the bag. In fact," she gestured to Dan, whose eyes widened substantially, "We have some really great female-focused initiatives that Dan will talk you through over lunch downstairs, which I'm sure will trump whatever your boss has promised to the American people." Dan winced.

She laughed into her next point, "And why downstairs, Jonah? Because I can't stand to look at ya for one more second, ya overlarge fuckin' goblin! Get out of my office!"

She gesticulated to the group at large, excluding Dan, "The rest of my team come into my office. Now!" She pointed at each and every one of them, "I will brook no disagreement."

The door closed, and Dan looked up from the floor where he had been looking, "Okay." He stared at Jonah's figure for a moment, thinking of what he wanted to say – some rhetoric about his garish new red blazer – but Dan couldn't find fault with it. It was pretty bright, and Dan had always been a fan of the more traditional blue, black, white or grey combinations, but it didn't seem to fill him with the same distaste as the rest of the group. And he wondered why that was.

Sighing at his newly realised lack of bloodlust, he stated, softly, "Jonah, let's go."

The walk to the elevator was uneventful, Dan looking straight ahead as he strode towards the shimmering chromic doors, with Jonah keeping stride with him but staying reasonably distant. The tension was palpable – at least from Dan's perspective.

They walked into the hollow, mirrored interior of the elevator. Jonah, seeing the fact that they were alone, realised that this was a prime opportunity to interrogate Dan about the way he had been acting. He turned to Dan, who was purposefully looking at his phone to avoid eye contact. Jonah, however, being bold, decided to take a leap of faith, and walked right up next to Dan and put his hands on either side of his body, closing him in.

Dan, trapped, had no choice but to meet Jonah's deep brown eyes when Jonah's voice cut deep into the silence, "Why won't you just talk to me? All I want to know is how you feel, Dan. That's all."

His voice was melodic, soft and sweet. Dan noticed, without helping it, that Jonah's mouth was less than an inch from Dan's lips. Jonah stared into his face. Dan ruminated that he was probably inspecting one of his flaws, like his crow's feet, or his freckles, or the fact that his eyes were a soft-of off shade of blue that in Dan's opinion made his eyes look shallow and watery.

However, when Jonah's next breath hitched, and he moved in closer, Dan was caught off guard. What was happening? A mere fraction of an inch remained between them, and Dan could smell the coffee on the other man's breath and the subtle scent of his sandalwood cologne on his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jonah's predatory, ravenous posture in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Would this be it? Would this be the first time he kissed a man?

He watched as the gap between their lips became smaller and smaller until finally, "Bing. Ground Floor," chimed the elevator, and the shiny doors opened.

The moment was shattered, and the real world snapped back into focus. Jonah recoiled, as if he was startled by what had just transpired, even though he was the initiator. He then proceeded to walk out of the elevator, and beckoned Dan to follow.

Dan, in spite of wanting to keep cool, did need a few seconds to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled in his mouth, and to compose his heart rate before following behind Jonah.

The little café downstairs was ironically named Executive Privilege. Part of the store was mercantile in nature and off against the sidewall. It provided take-home tea, coffee, and deserts – sidebar, this was where the Veep's endless supply of tea and fig newtons originated from. The other part was the restaurant; it was street-adjacent and drenched with light from the large plate-glass window that encompassed the entire front wall. Through its design, it delivered a cosy, corner-shop feel to the many lunch-eaters and coffee-drinkers employed in government.

They ordered at the counter and sat down in the most secluded area, a corner spot nearest the window.

"So," Jonah started, looking over Dan's face. He looked better than yesterday – his hair was no longer matted and poorly groomed, his eyes were no longer bloodshot and bugged, and he seemed calmer in his demeanour – but there was still the lingering bags under his eyes from a terminal lack of sleep, and he still slightly ducked his head, like he was anticipating an attack.

"Before we get to business, I just want to ask again," he said slowly and clearly, "What's going on, Dan?"

There was a pause in the conversation. A waitress with long, brown hair brought their orders over, and dispensed the drinks.

Dan laughed, accepting his steaming cup o' joe with a smile, "What do you mean, 'What's going on'? We're having lunch, Jonah."

Jonah grimaced, "You know what I mean, Dan. You broke down at my house. You were a dick to me on the phone. You confessed that you need to shut people off just to make it through the day. You're running hot and cold, Dan, and I want to know this – why are you acting so irrational?"

Dan inhaled sharply and slammed his fist down on the table, his coffee spilled onto the previously crisp, white tablecloth, "I don't want to hit you, Jonah, but that question makes me want to hit you," and through gnashed teeth ended with, "And why wouldn't it? You're insinuating that I'm crazy!"

Jonah continued, slowly, "Calm down, Dan. I don't think you're crazy, I just want to know where you're coming from," and he reached under the table and grabbed Dan's hand which was only moments before white-knuckled and clenching the side of his hard, wooden chair.

Dan sighed and turned his gave to the window, contemplative, "That question just makes me feel really uncomfortable, and yet," he paused, searching the pale blue sky, "Everyone keeps asking me it, over and over again."

Jonah responded inquisitively, "Who is everyone?"

Dan, still not maintaining eye contact, "Sue, one night at drinks. Amy in the Eisenhower corridor before I got fired. Mike, when we had coffee last week. And Gary only has eyes for the Veep, but even he has subtlety insinuated I'm not taking everything easily. I just… I," he turned his head slightly in Jonah's direction – still searching for something in the now brightened sky.

Then he turned away from the window, and the other man could see the tiredness returned to his rested face, "I don't know anymore."

Jonah swallowed, his heart beating a little faster after Dan, who at first simply allowed his hand to rest in Jonah's, now actively caressed and held Jonah's hand. "Know about what?"

Dan looked at him, dead set, and said softly, "Whether it's all worth it. The job. The hours. The lack of friendship. The lack of love. The tiredness. My brilliant ideas being ignored, and simultaneously overshadowed by my peers. I guess," and he detached his fingers from Jonah's, crossing his arms across his chest defensively but maintaining eye contact, "This started with my Mom. She called me on the night I got fired, when I was in hospital. She asked me how I was – I haven't been calling her much, and I feel that she… misses me."

Jonah softened, feeling content that he was finally getting some answers. He asked, jovially, "Does she know you got canned?"

Dan shook his head slightly, "No, I just didn't have the heart to tell her that I was fired from my Campaign Manger position. I just… disappointment is something that I can't afford to show. I really can't fail her. She used to be a former policy advisor in the Carter and Clinton administrations, and a former President of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of International Organizations for crying out loud!"

Jonah's brain clicked, it was all becoming clear. Dan's fixation with achievement and his ability to mortgage his entire self-worth was not innate, it was taught.

"And I mean," Dan continued, sombre, "Ever since Dad died things have been harder for her – I want her to see that I've got it all together, so that she can take care of herself. Because I don't want her to think I need to be coddled. She has enough on her plate, and I'm a grown man."

Jonah reached across the table and grabbed Dan's hand, "I'm sorry about your Dad, truly. And I know you care about your Mom, but you've gotta tell her, Dan. Because she sounds like she can help you, and if you want to change your life and make it better you're going to need all the help you can get."

He started grazing his fingers, and smiled, the old Jonah back, "Now was that so hard?" Dan nonchalantly swore, "Fuck off, Jonad," but it didn't have the bitter sting of resentment.

At that precise moment, the air changed. They both looked at each other – and in a split second, Dan was completely taken off guard by Jonah leaning across the table and kissing him.

Jonah's hands rose to cup his jawline while he experienced a jumble of full on tongue, heat, and the feeling of relief for the first time in he didn't know how long. His eyes closed, and he exhaled into the embrace.

The kiss was passionate. Deep. Wet. Sweet. Dan got drunk off it. Dan got drunk off it really fast. Dan vaguely registered that it was the kind of kiss that you don't want to stop. The kind of kiss that warms you. The kind of kiss that leaves you breathless.

After the couple came up for air, Dan just sat there, eyes shut, cheeks flushed. He eventually opened his eyes to find Jonah staring back at him, smirking like he's just won a bet with himself, "I knew you liked me."

He then proceeded to leave the café, but not before laying a $10 bill on the table, and muttering, "And you are not fine, but you will be."

Dan just stared blankly into space. He felt lighter, and was just about to get up and pay when he spotted a tuft of red hair in the corner of his vision, and froze.

As it turned out, Selina, ever the impatient micromanager, sent Mike downstairs to make sure that Dan was moving in the right direction with the policy discussion. Mike was just outside browsing the shop window when he spotted Dan and Jonah holding hands. Always the curious, nosy cat, he had glued his face up against the window in his intensity to view what was an extremely bizarre, fucked up scene.

And when Dan and Jonah kissed, his face was so close to the glass that he fogged up the entire pane that he was resting his face against.

It was this change in the clarity of the glass that drew Dan's eyes to where he stood, and when Dan realised who he was looking at, he jumped.

Hands over his face sitting at the table, he heard the subtle chime of the store door opening, and felt the haphazard slump of a body into the chair next to him.

Mike stayed in silence for a moment, waiting for the perfect question to pop into his head. Smiling after a few moments, he asked, "How did it feel to kiss the devil?"


	3. Transparency

**Chapter 3: Transparency**

**Monday, 10:34a.m.**

**Veep Headquarters**

Dan was humiliated. The conversation with Mike about Jonah had been excruciating. Why couldn't anything in his life just stay a dirty little secret? He wasn't even sure what the kiss meant.

Searching himself, he decided that regardless of what anyone said to him, for the first time in his life he was going to remain true to himself, and not wane at the first sign of public scrutiny. It was public scrutiny that had gotten him into this whole mental health debacle, and something about Jonah's promise that he 'would be alright' sparked this new courage within him.

He then resolved that if pressed, he would now affirm the existence of the kiss. The facts endured – he had not pulled away, it had not repulsed him (quite the opposite, he wanted more), and it hadn't left his mind since Jonah's lips had left his. This also led him to the only logical preliminary conclusion, that being that he enjoyed the kiss. _Woah_. That was a lot to stomach. He then decided to file that under 'deal with later'.

Dan walked into the office late on Monday morning. The Veep had told them to get some rest while they could, as their week would be long. In essence that they should, "Erase those bags under your eyes, I don't want to see them behind me on camera."

Walking into the office, Dan felt he was being dissected under a microscope. Everyone seemed to be purposefully ignoring him. He strode in to the centre of the bullpen, "Guys, I'm right here. I'm the same person I was yesterday, I just…"

Amy interjected, "Did something without thinking?" She seemed genuinely perplexed about his motives.

Dan frowned, "No."

Sue then added, "Hypnotised?"

Dan pursed his lips, "No."

Kent subsequently inquired, "Did he blackmail or bribe you in any way?"

"No!" Dan cried out, "And I would appreciate it, Mike," and he poked Mike hard in the chest so that he recoiled and winced in pain, "If you wouldn't spread my private life around the office like a fucking gossip."

Amy retorted, "Hey, don't blame him for giving us reasonable notice of the fact that you locked lips with an asshole! Also known as the enemy, by the way, or have you forgotten that?"

Dan lashed out at her, "Why don't you mind your own business, Amy? Your boyfriend is a campaign fundraiser. A fundraiser, Amy. At least Jonah advises Maddox on policy. At least he used to work for the White House. Ed is uninteresting, ugly, and a spoil sport, and you know it."

Amy walked over to him and looked ready to slap him, "Are you actually defending Jonah, Dan? Oh, shit. I forgot, you're lovers now. You can probably afford to look past his shit personality, poor job trajectory and lacklustre political performance in place of a good piece of dick."

It was at that moment that Selina entered her offices, her fake smile slowly fading, "What's this I hear? Why are my veeple people fighting?"

Dan spoke up, "Ma'am, Amy was implying that…"

She cut him off, "I heard what Amy said, Dan. It was a rhetorical question, I'm not deaf," she turned to Amy, "Amy, I'm disappointed in you. That was completely unprofessional – especially considering the fact that gay rights is a major policy item on my election ticket. How do you think 'Campaign Manager to Veep Embroils Office in Gay Slur' reads, Amy? Additionally," she turned to the group at large, "Dan has exercised his right to make a horrible choice in a partner. A horrible choice, Dan. Like, I would rather shoot myself in the face. But it's his choice, and it's not appropriate to make comments about his personal life in the office – particularly derogatory ones, Amy!"

She pivoted towards Amy, flapping her arms, "You know how litigious gays are!" Wincing, realising her mistake, she turned around to face Dan, and smiled, "No offense, Dan."

Dan, open mouthed after expecting to have to deal with the fallout of his choice, simply responded with an apologetic, "No offense taken, Ma'am."

Selina smiled, "See what happens when we all listen to me? Things don't fuck up! Note to everyone, listen to me more. Anyway, Dan, I want you in my office," and she gave Sue a cursory glance, "And Sue, did the President call?"

Sue replied, with a mixture of dull and droll that just was the essence of 'Sue', "No, Ma'am, he has not."

They walked into the Veep's office and she closed the door. Dan noticed the strong winter sun filtering through the blinds, and the newly procured yellow jonquils sitting in every vase around the room. It gave the place a cheerier feeling than the outside bullpen, particularly since he would now have to face ridicule from his colleagues of a far more insidious and covert kind now that express ban had been placed on the campaign team.

"Sit," she gestured to her leather couches. They sat, and she picked up the freshly made tea that Gary had prepared her moments prior. Dan could smell the fragrant aroma of rose-flavoured tea wafting through the air, and Selina sipped quietly for a moment until she opened her mouth with her first question, "How are you feeling, Dan?"

Puzzled, he replied tentatively, "I'm okay, Ma'am. What do you mean?"

Selina exhaled, "Oh, this Jonah thing. Is it… above board? I would like to echo the sentiments of those morons out there in asking you whether this… whatever with Jonah is something you need help with, or whether you would prefer us to leave it alone. Now, I know that I've just said out there that everyone should back off, but if it's the case that Jonah is forcing himself onto you, then I'd like to know about it – and I'd like to help you, Dan. I will not tolerate sexual harassment when I'm in office. I didn't when the Prime Minister of Finland's husband groped my tit, and I won't now."

Dan was slightly shocked by the veracity of the claim – Jonah as a possible sexual harasser. It was something to keep in mind if the relationship ever went sour, he supposed. But he shook his head, "Ma'am, I am beyond happy that you would go to this much trouble to stamp out sexual harassment in this administration and provide survivors with the support they require to move forward positively in the workplace. This is exactly the kind of policy that I told Jonah we would be supporting yesterday – broad anti-discrimination laws that empower disenfranchised parties to return to their work environments with protections that invest in their continued service to the American economy."

He paused, not knowing quite how to explain how he and Jonah operated, "Jonah is… something that is ongoing. It's new. It's non-work centred. It's not sexual harassment, by any means. All consensual. To be frank, I don't know what it is at this stage, Ma'am."

Selina honed in for an interrogation, "And it won't influence your abilities or work ethic on this campaign?"

Dan nodded, "No, it won't, Ma'am."

Selina reiterated, "That wasn't a question, Dan. But your response solidifies my choice to send you to Ohio to cover the upcoming Maddox announcement on his policies for women. I want you to get some intelligence about what he's planning to announce so that I can make a prior announcement and trump his announcement. I don't want this to be another one of those 'We don't listen to Dan and we all get fucked' moments – I'm following your lead on this, Dan. We need to strike hard, fast and precise. But I also want to know what we're up against. Maddox will be on home territory – he was Governor of Ohio when I was Governor of Maryland, but things have changed in the eastern states towards the party, and I need to know what will be acceptable if want to hand the party our potential swing states in the primaries."

Dan was blank – everything was turning out perfectly. It just so happened that his Mom lived in Ohio. He could kill two birds with one stone. But then he realised the potential downside, "But Ma'am, I'm assuming Jonah will be going to Ohio as well to cover the announcement? Isn't that a problem?"

Selina mused in a mocking way, "Well, I don't know, Dan. Didn't you just reaffirm your campaign loyalty to me in spite of this Jonah business? You think on that. And additionally, there's no evidence to suggest that Jonah would even be there – Maddox is gearing up for a fight, he's hiring tonnes of advisers to help out with his policy strategy. And to bring this all back to one central point, this is why knowing the vibe in those states is so crucial to my strategy. This is my smoking gun to end this charade of a duel between us. Don't fuck up, Dan."

She ushered him out with a ticket for an early-morning flight, and a predatory gleam in her eye that meant she had a plan.

**5:31p.m.**

**Dan's House**

Dan drove home later on that day, and unlocked his mahogany door with an ease that seemed to him to be quite unbecoming for a person that had experienced the pressures of his day.

When he stepped inside and kicked off his shoes, a vague thought began to form in the back of his mind – he pined for Jonah.

But Dan mused that it wasn't as simple as him 'missing' Jonah, because Jonah had never been an integral part of Dan's life – work or personal. It was more Dan wanting to talk him through the old brownstone, its walls the same as when he first bought it all those years ago, and with its fading façade came the memories that he needed to relive, or they would be lost forever.

It wasn't a large house – just a long hallway leading in to separate kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, lounge room and dining room. Hard wood floors with the exception of the carpeted family rooms. Bitterly cold in the winter, especially on nights like this.

Dan wished he could have a body, any body, somebody to warm his bed that night. His blankets still left him cold in some way, regardless of how many he threw on. Only people warmed him now, and after the recent delving that Jonah had made into his psyche, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Too many old memories were bubbling up to the surface, and he always found that when he was alone, his negative thoughts were always at their peak.

And his dreams sometimes terrified him, and almost always kept him awake. Standing in a church, staring into an open coffin at his dead corpse, with neither a person nor a sound in the surrounds. Empty. Hollow. Silent. Without a wedding ring. Without mourners. Without acknowledgement. Without achievement. Without remembrance.

Next to his dresser were the pills he sometimes took to sleep, but tonight they would bring him no peace. Tonight, he knew what the dream would contain. Tonight he would dream of his father.

Dan didn't like to think of the night he died, but tonight he knew he would have no choice if he slept – he could feel the emotions and the memories of him poised to leap across his consciousness. And that's why he chose not to sleep.

So, he sat in his bed, flicking through channel after channel on the television, and reviewing strategy documents on his laptop.

His eyes sometimes wandered to his phone, wishing and hoping that he would receive even the slightest communication from Jonah, from Amy, from Mike, from anybody.

But none came.

Dan looked at his phone. He didn't want to call Jonah. He didn't feel like he should call Jonah. Calling Jonah would be an act of admission, of desperation.

But then he also needed some human contact. And then it struck him, a text! A text was the perfect way to remain distant but also get what he wanted.

He started with a nonchalant, "Hey."

And, miraculously, within seconds, Jonah had written back.

"Hey, what's going on? :) You're up late."

Smiling, feeling his head lightening, Dan responded with a cheeky, "I could say the same thing about you, Jojo. :P Haha fairly bored, can't sleep, you know how it is."

He chuckled, but his smile fell off his face once he saw that Jonah was calling him.

"Shit! Why me?" he chastised himself. He was fucking tired, he legitimately had only a handful of hours with which to sleep before the flight to Ohio, and here he was taking calls from his what-cha-ma-call-it. Dan would not say "Crush".

Hesitantly, he pressed "answer" on the phone screen and pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Hey," he tentatively started with.

Jonah sounded really tired, "Hey Danny boy."

"Jonah," Dan queried, "Did my texts wake you?"

The call was silent, until Jonah responded, quietly, "Maybe. But I love talking to you so it's no matter, Dan. I'm just sitting here in my bed with my eyes closed and the sound of your voice in my ear. This is basically a holiday for me."

Dan chuckled and then blushed, "You are crazy, Jonah," he bit his lip and smiled, "Fucking crazy."

Jonah yawned, "So what you up to tomorrow, Danny boy? Anxiety-ridden tomorrow making it hard to sleep?"

Dan had to lie about his plans, so he substituted the most truthful answer for the one that was the most cathartic, "No, it's just this house," he started to walk around the halls, turning on the lights, "It's just… too dark, and dank. Sometimes I don't like living here. I feel isolated and lonely. Anyway, what are you doing tomorrow?"

Jonah sighed, "Oh, me? I'm off to ex-Secretary Maddox's speech on his policies for women. I'm actually helping to strategise and word the speeches myself, actually. Not to suck my own dick, or anything, but I feel I could right about now. You feelin' me, Danny boy?"

Dan smirked, "Oh, I'm feeling somethin'," and then something clicked. "Wait… what time is your flight?

"7:45a.m. Why?"

Dan breathed in. It was the same fucking flight. He knew that somehow he would end up bumping in to Jonah at the airport, so he might as well come clean now. And he also knew that it was probably in his best interests to remain honest with the man that he soon hoped would… something. Dan hadn't daydreamed that part out yet.

"Guess we'll be flight buddies, then."

Jonah gawked, "Huh? You're covering Maddox's speech?"

Dan sighed, "Yeah, Jonah. The Veep has sent me over to… well, I shouldn't tell you, but needless to say, it's Selina business."

Dan imagined Jonah's next statement to be something about the conflict of interest, or the fact that Jonah wouldn't be used as a political plaything with a useable heart, but he simply responded, in a cute, boyish way, "So, like, can we get McDonalds for breakfast?"

Dan's voice chimed with laughter, unable to control his late-night hysteria, and somehow, strangely, joy at the thought of travelling with his friend.

They arranged to meet at the security gate at 6:45a.m., and then Dan cut the conversation short due to his need for sweet sweet sleep.

Jonah finished off the conversation with a smooth, corny one-liner, "Sweet dreams," and Dan was out like a light.

And he did dream of Jonah. The warmth of his hands, the tightness of his hugs, and that clear, bright smile when his eyes rested on Dan.

**Tuesday**

**5:01a.m.**

**Dan's House**

It was fucking early. Too early for thought. Or speaking. Or anything.

Dan woke with an inhalation that muddled his brain and made him silently curse his life choices.

Stretching out, he turned off the alarm and hopped to the side of his bed. Even that action made him feel like he would topple over.

He stumbled across his bedroom to the shower, and groaned in the presence of hot water streaming down his body.

He desperately wished he had another life, one without the pressures of waking. One that allowed him to sleep in on weekdays. He moaned, unwilling to raise his arms to wash his hair that was now matted and wet, slick with grease from the previous few days.

But then his heart started pounding at the fact that Jonah would be meeting him in under two hours, and that made him care enough to start cleaning himself.

Looking in the mirror after stepping out of the shower was an experience in itself. He hadn't been looking at himself lately. He wasn't sure if he wanted to look at himself – he was afraid of what he had become. Older. More wrinkled. No longer in the shape he was as a 22 year old frat poli-sci major.

He sighed, and wondered what Jonah saw. He dropped the towel, and saw himself smirk in the mirror in spite of himself. Jonah couldn't see it, but Dan knew he'd be pleasantly surprised when he pulled down Dan's pants.

And that's when he first realized the depth of his affections for Jonah. He wanted him to see his naked body. He wanted him to kiss away all his blemishes. And he wanted to feel like he was someone again. Someone worthy to be loved and cherished.

And he would fight for that privilege.

Quickly realising his current lack of time, he bounded into his bedroom, threw on his most slim-fitting mid-blue suit (but still comfortable, it was going to be a long flight) with a large-collared white shirt and an atypical dusky pink tie. He smiled. It wasn't like him to do something so garish or flamboyant as to don such a combination – but he didn't care. "Fuck it," he said to his standing bedroom mirror, "I'm going to start being me and not giving a fuck what people say."

And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that this inner strength came from the solidity that was his impending relationship with Jonah. And he wouldn't permit this newly formed self-confidence to fade – it was transformative, enlivening, and had the capacity to change his entire life.

So he tightened his flamboyant tie knot, grabbed his already-packed briefcase and travel bag and waited on the dingy street corner for his pre-booked taxi.

**Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport**

**6:30a.m.**

**Departure Gate – US Airways Terminal**

Jonah was here. He was ready. He was pumped.

Clearly, Jonah was a morning person. He didn't need coffee for a buzz in the morning; just the thrill of the day got him excited.

Smiling, he waited for Dan at the gate for a few minutes until he finally saw him trundling along, head lolling on his shoulders from tiredness.

"Jonah," Dan whined, walking towards him, and throwing his arms around him, "Why do I have to be up so early? I fucking hate this."

Jonah blushed, "Because we work for Presidential candidates," he hooked under Dan's jaw and brought his face up to meet Jonah's eyes, "And I know you do."

And he planted a smooch on Dan's cheek.

"Whatever," Dan said, reddening deeply, "I want grits. You comin'?" he asked.

Jonah grinned. This side of Dan, he liked.

They sat down after grabbing McDonalds, and some grits for Dan. Dan began by closing his eyes and slowly sipping his coffee. Just lying back on his chair and listening to the sound of his own breathing, and wishing for the mentally crippling tiredness to end.

Jonah sighed. He didn't want to presume to think that Dan would ever think moments like these as indispensible. To Jonah, moments like these were everything. He could imagine Dan sitting exactly as he is now over the kitchen table with Jonah, Jonah reading out the morning paper and noting anything worthy of political appraisal. He sighed again. Moments like these didn't seem to factor very highly in Dan's eyes – even this trip was a means to an end.

He looked over at Dan, contemplative, he just wished he could change his mind. And part of that was going to include, Jonah knew, more intimacy.

That impromptu hug at the Airport was a start, but things could be much more fluid – rather than turning away, Dan could have easily used that opportunity to kiss Jonah back.

It was at that precise moment that Jonah noticed Dan's hair. With his head down, sipping, Jonah had full view of those luscious locks. They were a shower of smooth black follicles, and Jonah found himself consumed by their charm. He bit his lip; he really wanted to run his hands through Dan's hair.

Dan started babbling to Jonah after he finished his coffee, "So guess what?"

Jonah took the bait, "What?"

Dan chuckled, "The entire office knows about the kiss. Mike saw us and blabbed to everyone."

Jonah was horrified, "I… wow. And?"

Dan shrugged, "I defended us. Selina then really hard-lined the non-harassment policy in the office, and the shit storm blew over. I still think it's going to be hard to make them stop attacking me about it behind closed doors, but at least they won't make jokes in front of the Veep."

Jonah was moved. Smiling brightly, he leaned across the table, wrapped his hand behind Dan's head (getting a large chunk of that soft, supple hair) and frenched Dan on the mouth. His tongue slid into Dan's mouth, tasting bitter coffee and the starchy residue from the grits, but there was something else. Something that tasted and smelt inherently of Dan, and he wanted more. Growling in unison with Dan's simultaneous moan, he explored deeper into Dan's mouth until he lost all his air and had to rise to the surface.

Dan, as red as a beetroot and dazed, responded simply with "But I had coffee breath. I can't. I just… what."

Jonah smirked. He realised he just broke Dan. And that comprehension stirred him to reply, "I'm never going to not want to kiss you, Dan. And when you do things like that, I just… can't help myself," he paused and then winked, "And I like coffee."

They got up and left their respective seats, and walked (Dan stumbling) to the airline personnel to have their tickets checked. Dan stared at Jonah as they boarded the plane, and wondered whether this trip would be for better or worse, but he knew that Jonah would never hurt him, and he wanted to believe - for once in his life - that everything would be okay.


	4. Acceleration

**Chapter 4: Acceleration**

**Aboard The Plane**

**7:00a.m.**

The moment they entered the plane, Dan's vision tunneled. Confined space. Cramped seating. Other people breathing all over him. Having to listen to the muttered speculation of others. The stench of airplane food. He wasn't ready to be back here again.

Jonah looked at him, worry in his eyes, "Dan, are you okay?"

Dan shrugged and laughed it off, although the laugh kind of went up at the end like he was freaking out. "What do you mean?"

Jonah rolled his eyes. "You look as white as a sheet, and you're sweating profusely – tell me what's wrong. And also, as an aside, I shouldn't have to probe you for this information. Paraphrasing myself, 'admitting weakness isn't a bad thing', remember?"

Dan swallowed, his sight had gotten a little blurry, and he was tuning in and out of the conversation due to a high-pitched ringing in his ears. His heart was racing. "Okay, okay, Jonah. I'm afraid of flying, okay? I'm…" he swallowed, hard, "I'm afraid of flying."

Jonah just looked at him curiously, like he was an interesting article in the Washington Post, "You know, that's called Pteromerhanophobia. Also, you might want to have your cerebellum checked – you seem to have problems with turbulent environments, Mr. Sea Sick," he chuckled, but then looking at Dan, realized he was probably not in the laughing mood, "Regardless, it's treatable with anti-anxiety meds right?"

Dan grabbed him forcefully, "Don't you think I know that? But I can't find my Xanax. I think I left it on my dresser in the rush to get to the airport on time. Fuck!" He loosened his grip on Jonah's shirt, slumped into the nearest chair, and begun hyperventilating.

Jonah kneeled over him as other people went past to take their seats. The flight attendants apparently had other more pressing concerns. "Okay, how bad is it? Will we have to catch a later flight?"

Dan clenched his teeth, but not in anger, in frustration. "No. The Veep brought these tickets, and I'm dirt broke – it can't be another flight."

Jonah grabbed Dan's hand, rubbing his fingers along the other man's palm. Dan swallowed. "You didn't answer my question, Dan. There's always another way, we can walk right back through those doors into the terminal if that's what you need. So, I'll ask you again, can you do this?"

Dan looked him straight in the eye, "I have to. Will…" Dan choked on the word, "Jonah, will you help me?"

Jonah softened his concerned expression and squeezed Dan's hand, "Yes."

Dan breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, still shivering. Jonah checked the tickets, and squinted down the aisle, "Seats D and E, Row 27." Gently, he guided Dan to his seat, and they got their bags in order, taking out books and water bottles for the flight ahead. Their phones were switched on to flight- mode, and both men snuggled in to their seats while the pre-flight details were relayed by a large-breasted stewardess in the traditional nationalist red, blue and white attire and the southern drawl.

Jonah whispered reassurances in Dan's ear the entire time: "You're more likely to be hit by a car than you are dying on a plane," "It's only 5 hours to Ohio – that's only 300 minutes. Look at your phone, we're already 10 minutes in! We'll be there soon, okay?"

The effect on Dan of these reassurances was palpable, although Dan wouldn't have liked to admit it. He had always flown alone, and in some way, he felt that was his fear – not of flying, but of being in a situation where it was, in his mind, probable that he would die alone. 9/11 happened. Like, people died. And he could die. And he wasn't ready for that – he wasn't ready to die without love.

As he closed his eyes, and listened to the vague and unintelligible words spouting from Jonah's lips, he felt his heart-rate decrease, his palms dry, and his breathing becoming much more shallow. And the more Jonah soothed him, the more he found himself leaning into his large frame, until at the end, his head found his way into the crook of Jonah's neck – right next to his ear. So close that he could hear the subtle hitch of the other man's breath when Dan reached under the air plane blanket and took his hand.

Now it was Jonah's turn to blush – which he did. But to his credit, only slightly. The more obvious effect of the action, Dan knew, was in his pearly-white smile that was growing bigger and bigger with every stroke of his finger against the other's, and the happiness his eyes. Dan had never noticed before how beautiful eyes could be; he had never experienced anything as heartwarming as the radiating joy and (dare he think it) love coming from behind Jonah's bottomless brown orbs.

He grabbed the man by the jaw and kissed him. It was soft, and sweet, and quick. But it was something. And it meant something. And he wanted to give it; so he did.

After that, they sat in silence for a few minutes. It was peaceful, and warm, and Dan felt all his insecurities and hatred melt away and become this gooey mess of feelings. But oddly, he didn't mind. Ignorance and singularity of thought – thought of Jonah, specifically, was nice for a change.

Following this, Jonah took out his iPod with his free hand. He placed one ear bud in his ear and offered the other to Dan.

Dan tentatively took the bud and placed it in his right ear. Instantaneously, a string of deep, loud, heavy metal tunes came racing into his eardrum.

Dan quickly took it out of his ear, wrinkling his nose, "Oh. I forgot that you listen to that."

Jonah frowned, "Are you sure you don't want to listen, dude?"

Dan looked incredulous, "Dude? And no thanks. I kind of hate that stuff."

Jonah looked puzzled, "But… you went to that concert with me? You said you loved heavy metal too."

Dan laughed, "Oh, yeah. That. I lied. I only went to that concert to get information about POTUS from you."

Jonah looked hurt. He jerked the other earpiece away from Dan, turned the volume up loud, and stared resolutely out the window.

Dan was slightly astonished. He postulated that Jonah always caught on eventually that he was being played. God, it happened so much with people from the Vice-President's Office that you would think that he would assume underhandedness in all his dealings with Veeple People.

This was stupid. And Dan, who still was on edge because of the whole plane thing, had no time for trivial pursuits. It was time for action.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and got up. Before Jonah could question what he was doing, he was sitting on Jonah's lap. People around the plane stopped and stared. Some people even gawked, rolled their eyes, or glared to show their disapproval.

Jonah reddened violently. Dan skillfully displaced Jonah's ear buds with a flick of his wrists, and then lowered his head down close enough to whisper in Jonah's ear, "I fucking hate PDAs. I hate being stared at. I don't like blushing. I feel really uncomfortable right now. But clearly I'm going to have to get used to that, because it's one of the ways I can re-write our relationship."

He caressed Jonah's jaw in his hands, kneading his cheek with his own fingers, "I'm not that guy that fucked you over for his job anymore, Jo-" he kissed his left cheek, "-Nah," he kissed his right cheek.

Jonah sat there slack-jawed making a groaning sound, as he squeezed Dan's perfectly rounded, taut ass. This wasn't at all what he expected, but fuck, he… oh, just fuck. Who could analyse at a time like this?

Dan was gently rubbing himself all over Jonah, and as Jonah continued his ministrations, he started biting his plump, pink lips. The taller man started sweating, and swallowed. Fuck… he just… fuck. He couldn't, he just… fuck.

Dan leaned in again, and looked deeply into his partner's eyes. Gruffly, his voice catching in his throat in a sensual growl, he asked, "Do you forgive me, Jonah?"

Jonah gulped, hard, mesmerized by Dan and staring at him intently.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, closed his eyes while leaning in for a kiss.

Dan promptly swung off Jonah, and fell back into his seat. Jonah looked stunned, "Oh, and the other reason I need to do more PDAs is because they turn you on so much. I'm making a mental note of that for future use."

Jonah seemed slightly put-off. With a grumpy face, he mumbled, "Fuck you."

Dan laughed. "So, look. You want to actually achieve something on this flight? Put your stupid iPod away. Let's play 20 Questions."

Jonah, still slightly pouting, acquiesced. He started, "Okay, question one. What was your major in college?"

Dan scoffed, "What do you think my major was? Creative writing?"

Jonah seethed, "I don't fucking know, Dan, Jesus Christ. I'm just trying to get to know you, can you lose the attitude?"

Dan shrugged like a douche, "It was obviously Politics. Minor in Spanish. And then the J.D., you?"

"Majored in Journalism and History. Then, did a Master of Public Policy and Administration," Jonah confided.

His counterpart looked bemused, "Oh, really? I thought you went to Law School."

"My Mom's a lawyer, so I'm well versed in legalese, Daniel," Jonah chided, "You don't have to go to Law School to understand the law. Also, this just goes to show one thing," he smirked.

"Okay," Dan conciliated, "I'll bite, what?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he stated with a wry smile, "I'm fucking mysterious, bitch."

Dan punched him playfully. "Okay, my turn."

He bit his lip, unsure about his next words. He didn't want to make the situation explode with tension, but he also needed to know. He eventually settled on knowledge – his entire life, and his entire career was forged as the antithesis of ignorance. He summoned up his courage, and the words just fell out, "Why do you like me?"

Jonah looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

Dan didn't meet his gaze, "I just… I mean, I don't even like myself that much, and you're being really good to me recently. I just need to know… why?"

Jonah tenderly gripped Dan's hand. "Look at me," he said in a calm, measured voice. Dan kept his gaze down the aisle on the EXIT sign. At this moment, more than ever, he wanted to leave this plane. He shouldn't have asked the question. What if he didn't like the answer? What if the entire chemistry of their relationship just came down to his looks, or convenience?

But Jonah gave no quarter; saying again, more forcefully, "Look at me, Daniel Egan."

When the other did eventually meet his gaze, he smiled, "You… you're an unstoppable force of nature."

There was so much reverence in his voice – Dan didn't know whether he was flattered or scared. Scared that his apparent façade of bravado and competency had truly masked his innate fear of failure. Scared that he would never live up to the man that Jonah believed him to be – a man that he had worked his entire life to become, only to deny his outward self at his innermost core.

Jonah continued, "You're cunning. You're ruthless. And I love it. You're everything I want to be, and I admire you. Truly."

Dan murmured in reply, "And what of the worst of me? Who I am behind closed doors. The anxiety. The frustration. The pain. The weakness. I'm not steel-plated, Jonah. I'm frail like a ceramic doll. And if you're going to accept me, you need to accept me in weakness and in strength."

Jonah furrowed his brow, "You know I do, Dan. This entire trip, haven't I always been my your side? Kept my jokes to myself? Stayed both concerned, and carefree? The better question is – why won't you let me love you?"

Dan's lip began to quiver. "Because I don't like myself. My ambition has always been my undoing. My intelligence has never led my path towards anything but avarice and skepticism. And I'm not an unstoppable force – I was stopped oh so very easily when I was demoted. My force is limited. My influence is limited. I can't accept the other version of myself because… it's always led me down the wrong way. It nearly led me away from you."

He stared intently into Jonah's face, "Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy for sharing myself with you. I don't know how this happened. It started as an exquisite pain – a rage that bubbled up inside me at the mere mention of your name. But that didn't make sense. Because my feelings were conflicted – my outer self was beckoning me down the road to what it believed to be prosperity. This relationship is not logical, it doesn't help me politically, and it may harm my relations within the Vice-President's Office, and the whole District of Colombia."

Jonah started to look away, resolutely ignoring the tears starting to fall from his cheeks. No, Dan thought. This couldn't be where this story ends. He wouldn't let it. So he marched on, towards true knowledge – towards the unburdening of all his thoughts, "These last few days, I've felt alive again." He laughed, and piercing, clear, smiling laugh, "And I walked down a different path. It may not be strictly logical, or have the same perks. I can't rationalize it. Some people think I'm going crazy. I'm openly gay in D.C. – what the fuck am I thinking? But with you, I feel… whole. With you, I'm healing. You make me feel special, valued, appreciated. You support me, even though you don't have to. Even though you might not want to. But you do, and I… for all those reasons, I… I need you."

Jonah kissed him through the tears. Through the pain. Though their match was never fated. Though this may all end in heartache. A long, drawn out exchange of friction and muscle and energy, and a certain feeling that neither man could explain.

Eventually they broke apart. No words were exchanged, and none were needed. Dan fell asleep against Jonah's shoulder. Their hands were interlocked, as were their hearts.

Jonah stared at the sleeping man, and played with his thick, shiny locks of hair while he slept. And he felt weightless; breathing in the smell of the man that had just given him the greatest gift he had ever received from another in his life. The feeling from the kiss. The feeling he seemed to have always recognized in the other man, but had never allowed it to enter his thoughts, or his heart.

Love.


End file.
